


Downfall

by ardett



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Aftermath, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, But also, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, None of it on screen or explicit, Other, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 08:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14016375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardett/pseuds/ardett
Summary: Peter is being abused. Tony finds out in the worst way possible.





	Downfall

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Two Truths, One Lie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13788138) by [Nikolai_Knight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nikolai_Knight/pseuds/Nikolai_Knight). 



> I read Robin_Mask's Two Truths, One Lie, went through the entire non-con tag, rewatched Homecoming, and then wrote this. Not a direct spin-off of Robin's fic, but Two Truths, One Lie definitely kick-started me into this fandom and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since I read it. Thank you!

“Dammit.” Sparks dance up Tony’s pliers. “Pete, can you just get down there and check the wires?” The Iron Man suit stands inert before them and Tony is sure something has gone awry with the connections in the legs.

“Mr. Stark… I really don’t want to.” A crackle of static almost drowns Peter’s voice out completely.

“Kid, I told you we’d take a look at your suit after. I promise these modification will take an hour more max, and then you have my undivided attention.”

Peter has completely stopped working, hand still clenched on the wire cutter but frozen there. “I just… I really don’t… Can we do it later?”

“Come on, you’ve got those spry fifteen year old joints. Just get on your knees and take a look.” Tony shoves a screwdriver into Peter’s other hand. He rearranges some more components in the chest. “In the the left shin, there’s a black wire- Peter?” Tony glances up. Peter still hasn’t moved.

 _“Please,”_ he whimpers, but Tony has already turned away. The plea is lost to the grind of gears.

“What, are you afraid of getting your pants dirty?” Tony gestures towards the ground with his tool. “It won’t even take a full minute. Just a bit of rewiring.” Still, silence. Still, no movement. Tony sighs and faces Peter. “Okay, kid, what is the problem?” His brow furrows. Peter is pale as the dead, veins stark against his skin. He won’t meet Tony’s eyes. “You look sick, Peter. Do you need to take a nap or something?”

“No, no!” Peter’s nails dig into the stool he’s sitting on. “I… Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll… I’ll do it.”

Tony stares at Peter for a moment longer. A minute ago, he thought the boy’s hands were shaking. Now he’s not so sure. “Okay then,” he finally says. “Let’s get back to work.”

Peter sinks to the ground. He leaves the wire cutters and screwdriver on the table. Tony grabs them. “You’re going to need these, Pe-” A hand is on his inner thigh.

Tony bolts upright. His stool skids behind him. Tools rattle against the floor. Metal rings against metal. There is somehow too much and not enough distance between the two of them as the vibrations fade from the air.

“What the hell… What the _hell_ was that, Peter?” Tony can feel his heartbeat pounding in his ears, adrenaline coursing through him. Peter is still on the ground, _on his knees._ His whole body is trembling. Or maybe that’s Tony. “What…” Tony grabs for the table behind him for support. “What did you think I wanted? You think I wanted you to… Peter, you’re like a son to me. I would never want you like that.”

Peter flinches and Tony feels absolutely sick. He thought they were on the same page but if what he thought was simply idolization has been infatuation, if he somehow led this fifteen year old on…

He thought just this once he might hold onto something pure.

“What did you think I wanted, Peter?” he asks again, he _demands,_ suddenly angry _._ He treated this boy like a son and then Peter tries a stunt like this? “Answer me, Peter! Let me hear you say it! Let me hear what you think I wanted!”

Peter’s eyes are wide, irises barely there. Tony can’t remember if he’s blinked at all in the last minute. “I thought… I thought you wanted a blowjob,” Peter chokes out. It sounds perverse on his lips.

“Why, why would you think that?” Tony takes a step towards him. Peter doesn’t move. “You heard the rumors about Tony Stark the playboy and you thought that I would want sick favors from you? You thought maybe I picked fifteen year old boys off the street and ate them up like the big fucking bad wolf? You didn’t think that maybe, just maybe, I was being nice because I actually enjoyed having you around, or have you always assumed I was into kids less than half my age? What is it, Peter? _What is it?_ ”

“No… I promise, I don’t… I didn’t…” Peter’s chest moves up and down, faster and faster. His knuckles scrape against the concrete as his hands clench. “I never thought that, I swear, Mr. Stark. You have to believe me, _please-_ ” Peter looks up at him, eyes watering, looks up because he’s still kneeling on the floor, legs splayed a little too far, body leaning forward a little too much.

“Get up,” Tony orders and Peter does it immediately. Tony can see the dust on his knees, his shins.

In the silence, Peter’s gaze keeps flickering to Tony’s face. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, slowly, like he’s feeling out the apology. Something in Tony snaps, or maybe it breaks, and maybe it’s his heart.

“Peter, I think you should leave. Cleary, this is not working out how I hoped it would and frankly, I don’t think it’s healthy for either of us to be around each other. So I think it’s time for you to go.”

“No, please, Mr. Stark, I’ll make it up to you. It will never happen again, I-” Peter looks stricken, and it’s a familiar fear. Tony has already seen this brand of fear on Peter’s face once before.

“I’m not going to take your suit away, kid. I’m not going to take your _fucking_ suit away because you didn’t give me a blowjob, jesus fucking christ. You still need to go. Now.”

Peter’s face screws up and for a moment, it seems like he’s going to say something else. But then he turns on his heel and walks out. And Tony lets him.

 

Two days later, Peter is back in Tony’s tower, unconscious across a tabletop. “Stupid kid,” Tony mutters. “FRIDAY, bring up the footage from tonight and run an injury check.”

Tony listens to FRIDAY list out the casualties. They’re fairly severe, severe enough to trigger Karen’s emergency alert system. The video footage though…

It’s not bank robbers or muggers or car crashes this time. No, nothing like that. Just the New York City skyline panning out before Peter’s eyes. In the audio, there’s the deafening rush of wind from somewhere high off the ground. From the way the river snakes across the screen, Tony can tell Peter is on top of a bridge.

Tony would have known if he slipped. There would have been a frantic swiveling of the camera, a startled yelp, and Peter would have been looking at the sky instead of the water, the dark water that rises up to meet him. He would have caught himself sooner, instead of at the last second when the velocity was enough to dislocate his shoulder and his ankles already made contact with the water and snapped under the force, and just altogether too late. Tony would have known if Peter slipped. Peter didn’t slip.

And if Peter didn’t slip, he must have jumped.

“Sir, it’s recommended that you remove Spider-man’s suit. The heating unit has been compromised and the suit still has yet to dry,” FRIDAY intones.

Tony stares at Peter. The other day is still fresh in his mind, like a wound he keeps picking the scab off of. Something curdles in his stomach at the thought of having Peter wake up to the knowledge that Tony undressed him.

“Sir, it’s recommended-”

“I heard you, FRIDAY.” He could leave it- the kid’s hardly going to get hypothermia in Tony’s heated penthouse- but he shouldn’t. He should really get a closer look at Peter’s injuries anyway, even though he knows that the worst ones are going to be the ones he can’t see. Or fix.

He caught himself. Peter caught himself. He didn’t mean to follow through. He caught himself a second too late, but he caught himself.

Tony pushes the spider on Peter’s chest and the suit decompresses, loosening around Peter’s form. Tony tries his best not to look as he tugs the suit off Peter until it’s crumpled on the floor. He sets the bones in Peter’s ankles and wraps the boy’s chest without looking at Peter’s face. He reduces the dislocated shoulder next and hears the dull thud of bone sliding back into place when he feels something beneath his fingertips. More scrapes, he thinks. It’s not scrapes.

It’s teeth marks.

Tony swallows. His gaze darts over the rest of Peter’s body, taking it all in this time. Teeth marks lining his shoulders and collarbone, bruises on his inner thighs, red blemishes on his neck. Tony turns away and scrubs a hand over his mouth.

So Peter is having sex. High schoolers are supposed to have sex. There’s no reason Tony would have needed to know, or should ever know, if a fifteen year old was fooling around with other fifteen year olds. Even if he was Spider-man, Peter was also a hormonal teenage boy.

But most hormonal teenagers don’t try to give their mentors blowjobs. Or throw themselves off bridges.

“FRIDAY, bring up the footage from the last time Peter was here.”

 

_“Please…”_

Tony didn’t hear that last time. He didn’t see the look on Peter’s face, like he’d been punched in the gut and expected it all along. He watches until Peter’s hand is on his leg and Peter is leaning in. Then he turns it off.

Peter only said his name twice. Once at the very beginning, when Tony asked him check the wires the first time, and once when he’s pleading with Tony not to take away his suit. In the middle there’s no _Mr. Stark,_ only _please, I don’t want to, I’ll do it._ There’s no way to tell when Peter started thinking Tony was someone else.

Right after it happened, Peter had looked confused. Like he didn’t understand why Tony pushed him away. And the way he apologized… He didn’t understand why what he’d done was wrong. He didn’t understand that Tony didn’t want, would never want, that from him.

Bite marks on his shoulder, bruises on his thigh, hickeys on his neck.

His _kid_ threw himself off a _bridge._

Tony watches the clip again. He makes it past the part where Peter drops to the floor, past where Tony screams, past where he kicks Peter out. Then he watches it again. And again. And again.

Tony can recite every word by the time Peter begins to wake up. The boy begins to turn on the medical table, small half-asleep noises in his throat. His eyes flutter open. His pupils shrink against the light as his gaze casts around before warily landing on Tony. He pushes himself into a sitting position, wincing as he leans on the recent injuries.

“You dislocated your shoulder.” Tony laces his hands together in his lap. The video blinks away behind Peter. “I fixed it for you.”

“Oh, okay.” Peter shifts on the table. “Thanks.”

“You also broke some bones in your ankle. I fixed those too.”

Peter’s hands clench into fists. Tony pretends not to notice. “Thank you, Mr. Stark. I feel fine now, so I can-”

Tony interrupts him. “Of course, those were just your injuries from tonight. I didn’t do anything about those bite marks, so why don’t you tell me about those.”

Peter’s jaw tightens. “Patrol,” he says.

“Really?” Tony widens his eyes in mock surprise before his face slips back into an unimpressed look. “Because I didn’t see any rips in the suits. According to Karen, the only recent shoulder injuries you’ve sustained are from the dislocation. That’s pretty funny, isn’t it?”

Peter glares. “It’s not any of your business.”

“I guess it isn’t my business what you do outside of the suit. So why don’t you tell me why you jumped off that bridge?”

“I slipped,” Peter says quickly.

“You didn’t slip.” There’s a minute of silence. Peter’s stare burns into Tony. “You’re not going anywhere until I know why you jumped and I’m sure you won’t do it again.”

Peter gives a stunted laugh. “You didn’t care the other day. Why don’t you just kick me out again?”

“Are we talking about the other day? Do the bite marks have to do with your lapse of judgement there?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Peter’s cheeks are staining red. Tony can’t tell if it’s anger or humiliation.

“Peter,” Tony takes a breath, rubbing at his temple. “Look, kid, I’m not angry, alright? I was surprised, sure, and it’s never happening again, but if you decided to take a dive because you’re feeling embarrassed, I’m not that kind of angry. We can forget it if you just talk to me.”

“Forget it if I…” Another vicious laugh. “Why don’t we _not_ talk about it and forget about it? That seems more effective.”

“Don’t be a smart-ass. You don’t want to talk about it? You want play a guessing game? Fine, I’ll bite.” Tony leans forward. Peter doesn’t back away but his muscles tense, a deliberate freezing of movement.

“You’ve been fooling around with a girl and you wanted to try it with a guy,” Tony begins. Peter huffs and shakes his head. “Your new girlfriend put you up to this, to see if her boyfriend could get a piece of Tony Stark.” Another shake of the head. “You wanted some bragging rights at school.”

“No,” Peter’s nose wrinkles, disgusted.

“It’s not a girl.”

Tony was expecting the flinch. He was looking for it. It’s why he started with deliberately wrong guesses. He didn’t expect it to be quite so full-body. Peter practically seizes, gaze snapping up and teeth near biting through his bottom lip. The metal of the table bends under his fingertips.

“Woah, easy there, tiger.” Tony holds his hands up.

“How did you know?” Peter demands.

“Buddy, you tried to give me a blowjob.” Peter swallows hard. Tony watches his throat strain. “So do we have to keep playing or are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Peter scowls and looks away. Frustration raises Tony’s voice. “Peter-”

“I hate you,” Peter mutters.

Tony blinks. “ _Excuse me?_ What did you just say to me?”

“I said I hate you!” The words are the snarl of an animal, rabid and cornered. “Why can’t you just leave me the fuck alone?”

“Young man, you do not curse at me. Do you understand?” Tony can hear the cold creeping into his voice but he’s beyond caring. “I don’t know what the issue is, Peter, but you do not take that tone with me. Ever.”

Peter holds Tony’s gaze for almost a full minute before he balks, crossing his arms and growling out, “Fuck you.”

Tony raises his eyebrows and stands up. “Alright, I think that’s enough for today. Let me know when you’re ready to drop the bratty teenager act and talk like an adult.” He leaves and tells FRIDAY to lock the door.

 

FRIDAY’s voice interrupts Tony’s work in the lab. “Sir, I would recommend you check on Peter Parker. He was not exhibiting any signs of a panic attack except for an elevated heart rate but has since grabbed a pair of medical scissors and seems to be at immediate risk of harming himself.”

“Shit,” Tony curses. He rushes from the lab. “FRIDAY, try to stall him.”

“He is not answering me.”

 _“Shit.”_ Tony runs down the last stretch of hallway before the medical room and barges through the door. He gasps in the doorway, locking eyes with Peter.

A completely undistressed Peter.

“Let me out,” Peter says evenly. His eyes are empty. The scissors are above his wrist.

Tony closes the door behind him. “Put down the scissors, kid.” Peter’s grip only tightens.

“No. Let me out or I’ll hurt myself.”

“Is blackmail what we’re resorting to now?” Tony asks incredulously.

“It is if you don’t let me out.”

“I don’t have a problem taking away all the sharp toys in here so you have nothing to play with. Then what are you going to do?” Tony leans back against the wall, but he keeps one eye on those twin blades. Part of him knows Peter won’t hurt himself deliberately but a bigger part of him knows that his kid tried to jump off a bridge and he still doesn’t know why. The look in Peter’s eyes, his voice, even the way he’s holding himself, it’s like Tony has never met Peter Parker before. This is someone different.

Peter’s gaze flickers down. “Then I’ll break my fingers,” he decides.

“And what if I just buckle you down to this table until you’re ready to talk?”

Something in Peter’s face breaks. “Don’t,” he says but Tony hears the waver there. In the cracks, he glimpses Peter Parker for the first time tonight. So he pushes.

“You think I won’t, Parker? Bad enough you’re aggravating your injuries, and now you suddenly think you call all the shots around here? I sure think that deserves a time out.” Tony takes a step forward. Peter stumbles backwards. The scissors drop from his hands but he doesn’t even seem to notice. He’s shaking his head. Tony pushes. “What’s it going to be, Peter? Is this what it has to come to? Do I need to tie you up to make sure you don’t hurt yourself?”

Every line in Peter’s face suddenly hardens, and he roars, _“You’re as bad as he is!”_

Tears are welling in the corners of Peter’s eyes and still Tony pushes, raising his voice over the boy’s yell, _“Who, Peter? Who am I as bad as?”_

Peter’s chest is heaving, eyes wide and unseeing as he heaves air into his lungs. His nails claw at his sternum. Tony sees it a moment before it happens and throws his arms out to catch a collapsing Peter. Peter’s hands are like vices on Tony’s forearms and Tony can feel Peter trembling beneath him as he tries to keep the boy on his feet.

“Buddy?” he breathes.

“I’m not supposed to tell you, I’m not supposed to tell anyone. I- You can’t help me.” The words are twisted with gasps, sobs.

“Help you with what, Peter?” Tony pleads. “Help you with what?”

 _“No.”_ Tony can hear the weak whine in the back of Peter’s throat. “It was happening before Spider-man, you can’t- I can’t- I can’t-” Peter grits his teeth and shakes his head, trying to push away from Tony. “-can’t do any-” Tony holds on and eventually Peter gives up, slumping into Tony’s arms. His hands slip down to clench at the back of Tony’s shirt. And then he screams, a terrible, broken, bleeding scream that hollows out Tony’s heart.

Tony lets Peter sob into his chest until the cries dwindle down to hiccups, the trembling down to shudders. “Let’s get you a real bed to sleep in,” Tony finally whispers. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”

Peter peeks up at him, face puffy from all the tears. “Can I go home?”

Tony shakes his head, trying to ignore the twinge in his heart as he says, “Not tonight, buddy. Not tonight.” Peter nods. He doesn’t look up again.

 

Peter’s already awake by the time Tony walks into the kitchen. Tony goes for the coffee machine, grabbing a cup and saying, “Well you’re up early.”

“School time. And the elevator door is locked. Still won’t let me leave?” Peter quirks an eyebrow. There’s a hint of something sad in his smile.

“My ultimatum still stands. Do you want to make yourself breakfast? There’s cereal, eggs, some leftover Chinese, if you’re hungry.” Tony takes his coffee as the machine gurgles and sits across kitchen island from Peter.

“I’m good. Let’s just… get this over with, right?” Peter scratches at a spot on the granite.

“By all means.”

“So I’m… right, so last year I moved onto high school,” Peter’s nail grates against the table, harder, faster. “And in my gym, um, my gym class, my-” Peter’s hand pauses. He blinks. “There was a senior. A senior… boy. And we… you know, a couple of times we… We had sex. Just a couple of times. I regretted it afterwards. I didn’t want to tell anyone.” Peter glances up at Tony. His fingers are completely relaxed.

Tony hums and nods, taking a sip of his coffee. Relief floods Peter’s face. The coffee burns down Tony’s throat. “That’s nice, Peter. Why don’t you tell me the truth?”

Peter stiffens. “That is the truth,” he insists.

“Then tell me the whole truth.”

Peter bristles. He struggles with himself, nails digging into the back of his neck and head tilted down and shallow breaths. “It… It wasn’t a senior. It… It was my teacher.” His voice pitches up in panic. “And I- I never… I never wanted it. I just- It was before I was Spider-man and he told me he would make me fail the class if I didn’t… if I didn’t…” Peter buries his face in his hands, fingers wrenching at his hair. The words rush from his mouth. “It was such a stupid reason to… but it was my first year, I couldn’t fail a class, Mr. Stark, I _couldn’t_ fail a… And then there were videos. I should never have- I shouldn’t have- I was so _stupid,_ I just didn’t think it would matter so much and all the other kids told me they did it too so I thought- I thought just one time would be okay. I should have listened- They- They told me you couldn’t stop once you started but I thought if it was so bad why didn’t anyone tell the school but you can’t- Everyone has to take gym and if you- if you just need another study hall, he’ll let you- They said everyone did it, everyone knew, it’s just how you pass gym at Midtown- And then I became Spider-man. I’m supposed to protect people but I was never supposed to tell anyone- No one ever said anything- And the videos- He says he deletes them after four years but no one knows if he does- _I’m supposed to protect-”_ Peter gasps and stops himself, nails gouging into his own skin.

The coffee cup slips from Tony’s hands and shatters on the floor.

Tony read somewhere that Midtown had an exceptionally high suicide rate. It had been attributed to rigorous academics and a high pressure environment.

“Peter…”

 _“Please don’t…”_ Tony thinks Peter’s going to say _please don’t ask me, please don’t tell Aunt May, please don’t be mad,_ anything but, “Please don’t do anything.”

“Don’t do anything? Peter, I… I have to tell someone. The school, the authorities, I should bring the goddamn Avengers down on that… that…” Tony stares at the broken shards on the floor. “I yelled at you after…” Tony puts a hand over his mouth. “Peter, I’m so sorry. I should have known what it was. There were so many signs. I thought…” Tony shakes his head. He doesn’t say it aloud.

He thought that it couldn’t happen to Spider-man, who can stop a speeding car with his bare hands, Spider-man, who defends the streets of Queens nightly. He would have believed the senior excuse if Peter was a better liar. But maybe he should have known because Peter lets himself get bullied and doesn’t play football and doesn’t do anything that might reveal that he’s a different Peter Parker than he was before, but Tony never expected Peter to sacrifice himself in a way like this. But it’s not just Peter, and it’s not just because of Spider-man. How many kids have kept silent about this? For how many years?

“You can’t, Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupts Tony’s thoughts. “Please, you can’t do anything. Everyone will know I told you.”

“What are you talking about? Can you hear yourself, Peter? This has to stop and whatever it takes to do that, I will do.”

“This is why adults don’t get it. This is why we never tell you anything!” Peter’s stool screeches as he gets up and stands pacing. “You tell the police and they have to prove it, so they go through hours and hours of that footage, of us! Don’t you understand that we’d rather do it a thousand times then let strangers, or- or our families watch those videos? Aunt May or… or… _you.”_ His voice cracks on the last word. “I don’t want anyone to see me like that.”

“Except the person who’s doing this to you. He sees you like that,” Tony reminds.

“But he has to,” chokes out Peter. His pacing falters.

“No, he doesn’t. No one should see you like that unless you-”

Peter closes his eyes. “Don’t give me the consent talk. I know, I’ve heard it a million times.”

 _“Then why-”_ Tony swallows, pinching at his nose. “Sorry. Sorry. But you’re getting raped, Peter. You understand that, right?” Peter winces. His arms are crossed and he holds himself a little tighter. “And not just you, apparently, but tons of kids in your school because one sick man is taking advantage of children. You’re not ratting out your classmates, Peter. You’re protecting them. You’re protecting them, Spider-man.” The last line comes out quiet, pleading.

Peter slides down against the cabinets. Tony goes to him, kneeling besides him. Peter looks dazed and _young_ and devastated. “I’ve already waited so long,” Peter whispers. “I haven’t said anything for two years.”

Tony takes Peter’s hand, so small in his. He squeezes. Peter squeezes back. The morning sun pours into the penthouse and Tony hopes.

 

Tony hopes in vain.

 

The fallout is every bit as bad as Peter thought it would be, every bit as bad as Tony hoped it wouldn’t. When the teacher is first apprehended, no one comes forward. The police need just cause for the arrest, just cause for the search, so Tony has to give them Peter’s name. Still no one comes forward. If enough kids supported Peter’s claim, then maybe that would be evidence enough, but not one other student admits that it happened to them too. So police have to go through the tapes. And tapes. And tapes.

Hours and hours of Midtown’s students, fourteen to eighteen, boys and girls, all of them children.

Somehow it leaks that Tony Stark gave the tip to the police. It doesn’t take a school full of geniuses to figure out it was the intern who let out the secret. Peter gets in the car with Happy one day crying and mumbling, _I shouldn’t have told anyone. I shouldn’t have told anyone._

No one comes forward. It doesn’t matter. There’s so much evidence on the tapes. That teacher is never getting out of jail.

No one comes forward. Peter gets called down to the principal's office to give his account of what happened. Tony doesn’t find out until he’s called in to take a screaming kid home. He’s there when May gets the call from the school. Peter hadn’t said anything until they brought in the tapes and then he wouldn’t stop screaming about how the school failed and how they must have known and did nothing and how he never wanted to tell anyone.

No one comes forward. Peter’s going to go into court alone.

No one comes forward. Tony wants to send Peter to school with a security guard but Peter just stops going at all.

No one comes forward. There’s so many fucking kids on these tapes, Tony can’t believe that not one of them will admit that they went through the same thing as Peter. Tony wants to scream.

No one comes forward. Tony knows exactly what it is. Why say it happened to you too when someone has already admitted it, when the teacher is already going to jail? Why admit your own humiliation when someone has already taken the fall for you? Why change your habits after years and years and years when it seems like it all worked out? Peter’s the fucking martyr Tony promised he wouldn’t be. The entire school rests on Peter’s shoulders and Tony watches it crush him.

No one comes forward. No one comes forward. No one comes forward.

It’s two days before the trial and Peter is clawing at Tony’s arms, crying into Tony’s arms. “I told you I didn’t want to do this. I- I told you I didn’t want this. I’m going to have to say everything in front of that whole room. You told me I wouldn’t have to and you _lied._ ”

“Peter, _Peter-”_

“Let go of me!” Peter makes to push Tony away but his balled-up fists slacken when they make contact with Tony’s shirt. His voice shakes. “I don’t want to do this. I didn’t even want to tell- I shouldn’t have-” He takes a few deep breaths before asking, “Why did it have to be me? Why couldn’t someone else have… have... I didn’t want to, you made me… You made me tell…”

Tony kisses the top of Peter’s head as the boy sags against him. He did the right thing. He knows he did. Still, the guilt festers.

 

Someone drops a flash drive off in the lobby of the tower. It comes with a note that reads, _To Tony Stark, for your lawyer. From Midtown._ Tony plugs it into his computer and the jerky footage of a cell phone camera pops onto the screen.

_“This is Chrissy Chen, testifying that…”_

_“This is Peter Doman. I was…”_

_“This Robert Hinds. It started when I…”_

_“This is Nyla Siler. Peter wasn’t the only one…”_

_“This is Vanna Smith… Polly McKenna… Charlie Murphy… Alice Tucker…”_

Tony watches it all. Every single account. Some are just a couple of sentences of admission. Some are ten minutes of sickening details. Some show bruises and raised scratches. Some are straight faced. Some break down into tears. Some throw up off screen. Some throw up on screen. Some look like they can bench two hundred pounds. Some look like their wrists will snap under a well placed breeze. Some look like they’re almost adults. Some look younger than Peter.

Three hours of complied confessions.

Tony saves a copy and then sends the flash drive to his lawyer.

 

The morning of the trial, Tony sits down with Peter. He shows him the video. He’s right beside him the whole time, though kid after kid, until the final frame hangs before them. Whoever stitched all the videos together left one screen of text at the end, just five seconds of white words against a black background.

_Thank you, Peter Parker._

Peter stares at the screen, his body still for the first time in days. “I’ll do it,” he finally says. He looks at Tony. “I’ll do it.”

 

An hour after the trial, the tears have dried. Peter’s eyes are still a little red as he sits across from Tony in front of the ice cream parlor, sipping on a milkshake, but the shaking of his hands has subsided. Tony watches the pigeons eating from the ground, watches the clouds drift past the tops of the buildings. He watches the boy in front of him.

Peter feels his gaze and looks up. There’s something tired to his face but the small smile there starts to mend the broken parts of Tony. He fiddles with his milkshake. “I think… I think I did the right thing.” Peter’s eyes flicker from the table to Tony. “And so I just wanted to say… thank you. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tony’s gaze softens. “It was all you, kid. You’re one of the bravest people I know. I mean that.”

Peter laughs and shakes his head, but his grin widens. Tony smiles in return, and he knows, in every fiber of his being he knows he’ll do whatever it takes to do right by this kid. His kid.


End file.
